


A Contract and Contact

by canterville



Series: Collisions [1]
Category: Jupiter Ascending (2015)
Genre: Canon-Typical Incestual Vibes, F/M, Rough Sex, Wallbanging, porn with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 03:30:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3513656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canterville/pseuds/canterville
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Jupiter Jones has entered a marriage contract with Balem Abrasax. She's screwing the devil. She's sold her soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Contract and Contact

The first night after the wedding, they do nothing. Jupiter paces in her room, eyeing the door and waiting for Balem to slip inside. It wouldn’t surprise her if he passes through the wall like a ghost. Instead, he simply does not appear. Too busy, perhaps, now that he had stripped Titus of his marriage rites (“Did you think you could wed without consent from the First Primary?”), now that he had claimed those rites for his. Jupiter shudders. She had been wrenched out of the lion’s jaws, and into the crushing embrace of a snake. He did not need to visit himself upon her for his coils to be felt, wound about her middle. Soon, Mr. Night appears instead, to tell her she is free to wander the halls of the dark alcazar that Balem had brought them to. Where, after all, could she go, now? Who would retrieve her from this planet? Kalique? Caine? Caine was… No one was coming. And this meant dealing with the glittering worm herself.  
  
She happens upon him in her wandering, every so often. Pacing in a barren chamber. Drinking liquor in a sitting room so quiet she’s sure she can hear the caustic stuff _sizzling_. Reading a report in a dim parlour. He has the good grace to chuckle when she points out how bad that is for his eyes. He’s certain she doesn’t care, and that it doesn’t matter. She stays, even so, to talk. It’s surprising how much he’s willing to speak when the act of drawing breath seems more than he wishes to bother with. She doesn’t want to know about his grim work, but must, and now that he stands to inherit her holdings, he does not shut her out.  
  
Another time she finds him gazing up at the sky, like it has answers for him. Perhaps it does. They speak together of time, of distant stars. Balem knows so many of their names that it fills Jupiter with a curious nervousness. Some part of her is always afraid of him, and when he touches her hand, it’s difficult not to flinch. His touch is like snakeskin, scaling her arm, her shoulder, the crook of her neck. There could be poison on his lips, but Jupiter dares a taste. His fingers seize on her hair, and she sinks her teeth into the softness caught between them. The sudden, sharp pain sends a tremor through Balem, who no one dares to touch, who has scarcely known discomfort in thousands of years. He jerks away, touching his lip. When he moves his hand from his face, it’s to deliver a backhand that sends Jupiter stumbling.  
  
Balem is mute and raging, but before he can reach her, Jupiter grabs him by the front of his too-fine clothes, slamming him into the wall. If there was ever poison on his lips, it tastes of copper now. His fingertips dig into her thighs, pushing her dress up, thumbs hooking in the band of her panties. Jupiter crushes herself against him, as if she could press hard enough to smother the last dim flickers of life in him. She would sink her teeth into his throat, if only that damnable collar wasn’t in the way. The pressure of his hand between her legs makes her stomach go taut, lust coiling there.  
  
“Fuck you, Balem,” she snarls, and when he lets out a hoarse laugh, she wraps her fingers around his throat, just above where his gorget can protect him. He slips a finger in, and it’s all she can do not to wrench that collar right off. How… How does _this fucking thing_ \--?!? She muffles a moan against his lips, a half-formed curse. Everything tastes like metal. His hand is hard on the small of her back, and she squeezes, squeezes, squeezes, until she’s certain he can barely breathe. The hand on the small of her back slides down, follows the curve of her ass, nails sinking in. Jupiter rolls her hips, sinking down on the nimble fingers that stroke and slip inside and out. _Ah, fuck._ It’s hard to keep her grip when Balem’s fingers are so adept, as if he knew, had always known just how to find – Don’t think about that, don’t you _dare_ –  
  
He’s supporting her with one arm, breathless, but she can’t quite squeeze hard enough. She rakes his scalp with her fingernails instead, and he catches her lips on his. She braces her hands against his shoulders, not expecting his strength as he lifts her up. The wall is solid against her back, and Balem’s nimble fingers keep fucking her, tireless. Her cry of surprise comes with a slap across the face, but Balem’s outrage shows itself only in how hard he kisses her. He growls into it, chastening her jaw, her throat, with lips and teeth as she claws at him, as his fingers make way. “Don’t you _dare_ st –” She feels his arousal against her thigh, her cursing cut short before he pushes his cock inside, rough but not impatient. His fingers are slick on her hip, and they slither over her thigh, into the bend of her knee, holding her up. Her name comes out with a sigh of breath, _her_ name, as he begins to pound, taking his time, savouring her.  
  
“You’re tight,” he murmurs. She clings to him, now, biting her lip to suppress a moan at the jag of pleasure that comes with the next short stroke. Balem’s voice in her ear is almost smug. “Harder?”  
  
“ _Fuck you!_ ” He kisses her throat, glad to oblige, each thrust heavier than that preceding, faster, deeper. Jupiter’s still cursing his name as climax closes in, her joints vibrating with each deep thrust. It’s a wonder she can keep even one foot braced against the floor. Balem is relentless, caught up in her, he can’t get any closer, can’t kiss her enough, can’t hold her tightly enough. Her name is on his lips again, and she can’t bear the sound. “I’m –” She shudders in his arms as her release wrenches out a cry, and he loses himself with her, leaning his head into the crook of her neck as he lets it ravage him. Then it’s still, in the way that the air is still after a thunderclap. Jupiter can hear Balem breathing, each exhalation scrubbing his throat raw. Her knees are still weak when they part, leaving only tremulous wetness between her thighs. Balem caresses her cheek where he had slapped her, studying her face. It isn’t for long, however. A pained look passes over his stately countenance as he takes a step back from her, then another.  
  
“You’ll want to return to your quarters. Clean yourself up.” he says, readjusting his now quite dishevelled raiment. He doesn’t get far before Jupiter catches his hand.  
  
“Come with me.”


End file.
